An Eternian History Lesson
by tslove
Summary: In a new take on the Masers Of The Universe mythos, a mysterious old soldier tells his grandson about his time with Randors Royal army, and his knowledge of the history of The He-Man.


The child came to visit his great grandfather, the old man had been sick for many weeks now and the healers had pronounced his time was short. He was no longer accepting the medicines to prolong his life, announcing to all that was "not how it was done in his day", and since he had been denied an honorable death in battle, he would at least face it with some grace in old age. His granddaughter had rolled her eyes at that, and reminded him for perhaps the thousandth time that Eternia was very different now than it had been in his youth, and that much had changed in the three hundred plus years, as measured by the Eternian celestial calendar, since he had served in the Eternian Royal Guard. As always, he had snorted and replied that "different ain't always better", and that at least in his day you "had some excitement." That phrase had started the stories of the old days, she had grown to detest them, but her sons eyes had brightened, and he had begged his great grandfather to tell him stories of the old Eternia, of what it had been like before the Royal family of Randor had solidified their hold on the planet. The time long before the planetary peacekeeper force had been established, back when bandits and barbarians still roamed the wilderness, dark sorcerers warred with each other, mermen and pirates threatened to wreck the sea trade, and Lord Adam, the He-Man of the Vulnarians and last of his kind, swore vengeance on those who had destroyed his tribe.

The stories of the He-Man in particular excited her son, and he was clearly infatuated with the idea of the roving barbarian lord, riding astride his great green armored tiger carrying proudly the Vulnarian Sword of Power. She _could_ see the romance of the stories after all, the misplaced blonde giant adopted as an infant into the tribe of dark haired and olive skinned warriors, having no idea of his true parentage, but accepting fully the warrior life and religion of the Vulnarians, but she did not like her son hearing tales of war and battle and the Vulnarions worship of the pagan goddess Teela-Na. Still, telling the boy the stories seemed to ease her grandfathers final days. The old man deserved some peace she figured, after a lifetime of war, he _was_ something of an Eternian legend himself, after all, although there were none now left alive to remember his exploits, but the Royal family had at least left him a very comfortable pension, so he wanted for nothing, and had always shared his wealth with his family. She knew who he had been and what his military station had been, but since the old man seemed to not wish to tell her son himself of his own legend, she kept silent as well; the He-man was always the focus of the stories. Her Grandfather claimed to have personally known the He-man, and said that the truth was actually more unbelievable than the stories even, but then again the stories were rather... unbelievable.

The boy was in his great grandfathers room, leaning forward eagerly while his great grandfather examined an old metal engraving. The flat piece of steel showed two men with their arms around each other's shoulder, smiling, in the prime of life. One was tall, dressed in green ballistic weave armor with a chest plate and helmet wired with cybernetic modifications. Old fashioned laser weaponry, relics scavenged from the Great Wars, pistols and longer laser sighted blade launchers bristled from his belt, and a distinguished mustache adorned his upper lip. He had his arm around the shoulders of a shorter man whose legs appeared to be completely cybernetic, and he wore an enormous battering ram shaped helmet which appeared to be made entirely from korodite, the rarest, strongest, and most valuable mineral on Eternia. Many thought Korodite was magical, and a simple ounce of it, when it could be found at all, would purchase an estate. To see a helmet made from it was unbelievable. The boy of course did not recognize the korodite, only, "Whoa look at the size of his ax!" he said, referring to the helmeted soldiers battle ax.

The old man smiled, "It was a great ax, indeed. It even separated the deadly Trap-Jaw's cybernetic arm from his body once, an accomplishment only the He-Man himself could best!"

The mere mention of his name was all it took. "Tell me about him, sir, please? Tell me a He-Man story!"

"Ok." The old man smiled. "But we all knew him as Lord Adam of the Vulnarians, warrior of the wastelands, the desolate valleys between the Gore Jungles and the Sands of Time."

The boy frowned. "I never heard of the Wastelands."

"Because they are no longer there. The Gore Jungles are now a national park and what used to be the Waste is now the city of Vegasa, gaming capitol of Eternia," the old man sighed, "I liked it better when the wastelands were full of orcs who would take your life, not tarot dealers trying to take your money!"

"Sir, the He-man? Please?"

"Right. Ok. Well, Lord Adam was brought as an infant to the Vulnar Valley, a soldier whose name and rank has been lost to time dared to enter the valley of the warrior men and present to them the pale infant boy, and ask them to raise the child as their own. The Warriors of the Vulnar Valley, while possessing a high sense of honor, still distrusted outsiders and wished nothing weak to enter their stronghold. Add to that the pale skin and yellow hair of the infant boy, and they were want to refuse the request, until one named Orko, the chief of their shamans, stepped forward, and proclaimed that he saw a greatness about the boy. The shamans of the Vulnarians were the Earthly mouthpieces of their warrior goddess Teela-Na, who they believed watched over them and protected them from her great hall in Etheria, the land of the Everlasting Warrior.

While their goddess was pictured as strong and hale as they themselves were, their shamans were small and stunted of growth, indeed if a Vulnarian was born a dwarf it was a sign from Teela Herself that it was one who must undergo the Trial of the Towers, their own Mystery School initiation into the priesthood, and if they survived the Trial they would then receive the Power of The Falcon and the Cobra and act as servants of the people and the Goddess. Teela-Na Herself would give them their name in vision quest, until that time they would remain nameless. Thus, Orko was given his name at thirty years of age, only then had he finally passed the Trial Of The Towers, having begun the Trials at five years of age. He was one of only twelve priests in history to survive the Trials, for immortality was one of the rewards.

So, as the Vulnarians were prepared to send the soldier and infant away, small, darkly robed Orko with his strange glowing eyes (the eyes glow, it is said, from a mysterious drug the priest of Teela took to commune with the Goddess) emerged from his meditation hut and commanded that the babe be brought to him.

It was done, and he took the infant in his short misshapen arms and limped towards the tombs the Vulnarians called their Hall of Elders. The soldier attempted to follow but the large dark Vulnarian savages pointed their fiery spears at his chest, and he was obliged to remain still.

The stunted shaman carried the infant deep into the darkness of the tombs, where the other eleven shamans, all stunted and cloaked, awaited him. Then, they followed as he descended ever twisting catacombs and dark tunnels, deeper and deeper underground, until at last he came to a great chamber, with a pool of deadly sulfurous water. In the center of the deadly pool was a stone platform that hovered above the water, and upon it was a great rock, with a large ancient sword that appeared to made from ice embedded deep within it.

"This is the Sword of Power," Priest Orko spoke to the other shamans, although they all knew it, "and if Revered Teela is indeed giving me a message about this infant, the Sword shall give us a sign. It is the Sword of He, the sword that will in rights be given only to the Vulnarian champion that shall lead our people to glories unimagined. I say that Great Teela is moving me now to test this infant, are there any who dispute?"

None of the eleven other shamans spoke.

The chief shaman sighed, as if he knew what must be done next, but he did not like it. "Very well, as the Law states, the babe is to be tested." So saying, the Orko removed from concealed cunning pockets in his cloak a vial, drank from it a mysterious substance, and rose up into the air, still carrying the babe, and floated across the water to the stone platform. After touching his feet upon the stone, the Shaman Priest displayed the unhurt babe to the eleven. "The first test he has passed, for it is said that only the true Vulnarian ever shall be allowed to cross the sacred waters, and it is death to any non Vulnarian who tries!" The eleven shamans nodded their agreement.

"Now comes the second test," Orko announced, "The crossing was made in the company of the _( their secret word for the priest of Teela-Na, boy, a word I do not know) , now we shall see if the newcomer has favor in the eyes of Great Teela, if so, She will not allow him to die by the Sacred Water from any hand, even my own! If not, She will accept his sacrifice." So saying, Orko then attempted to throw the infant into the sulfurous hot bubbling waters, but his arms locked and he could not move them, thus the infant was safe once more.

The eleven shamans murmured their approval of the boy-child passing the second test, and though none could see it, quick relief passed over Orkos hooded face, even though it was his duty he had no wish to throw the babe to his death. He readied himself for the third and final test.

"The final test for the babe," he announced, "if the child passes we will know that Great Teela has marked him as a champion of Vulnaria, and he shall become one of us, merging his destiny with ours, and we will protect his life with ours, agreed?"

The shamans shouted their consent, it had been over a thousand years since last they had had a champion.

"If he fails the test", Orko continued, dropping his voice, "then by law the babe shall die by my hand, as no outsider shall bring weakness to Vulnar Valley." The eleven nodded and waited, no one had any doubts now, the babe was truly the champion, it was not possible that he would fail the final test! Their long prophesized champion had arrived!

Orko raised the babe up to the hilt of the sword buried deep within the stone, his own arms trembled, he had no wish to slay this child, not now, and he prayed silently to Great Teela that this would be the one.

He made the babes hands touch the great swords hand guard and waited. According to legend the Vulnarian champion would be the only one who could remove the sword from the stone, but the legends had said nothing about a babe! Great Teela had come to him in visions, and told him the babe would be arriving, and the babe was special, but that it must be tested. So far, the babe had passed the test.

The twelve shamans waited breathlessly while the babe touched the sword handle, and then... nothing happened. The disappointed shaman fitted the childs hand to the sword handle again and ... nothing. There were sighs of disappointment from the other eleven shamans. Orko cleared his throat.

"I will not pretend that I do not share your disappointment," he said, "I was so sure... nevertheless we all know the Law." The other eleven nodded, they did indeed know the law. "The Law was given to us from Mighty Teela herself, we dare not waver from it. The Law is harsh but fair. The Law demands that the Vulnarians remain strong to do Her bidding! Thus.." Orko put his blade to the babes throat. "Thus I do the Law."

Orko slit the babes throat quickly and efficiently, he had no wish for the babe to suffer, and he prepared to throw the small body into the holy waters that would now consume it. Only as he raised the child, he realized that he saw no blood, and that his blade was twisted and dulled. Finally, he saw the babe was still alive, and unhurt.

He stared into the babes face, who looked at him as innocently as only a baby can, and began trembling. "Great Teela, my Goddess... I do not understand."

The old man stopped telling the story then to drink, and the boy stared at him wide mouthed. "He was going to really kill him? He was going to kill the baby?"

"Yes, boy. He was," the old man nodded. "The Priests of Teela-Na were the last of an ancient sect, and their beliefs and laws were very different from our own."

"But killing a baby?' The boy shook his head, "I can't believe it, how terrible, Grandfather."

"Yes." The old man agreed, "It _was_ terrible. And to them necessary. You must understand that the Vulnarian warriors could allow no weakness to enter their ranks, they had been the champions of Teela-Na and the defenders of the ancient magical and technological secrets she had given them for thousands of years."

"What secrets, Grandfather?"

The old man grimaced as he sat up straighter in his chair. "You have heard of the Great Wars?" He asked.

The young boy nodded. "We learned about them in history class. That's when King Greyskull defeated the Snake Men, right?"

"More than that boy, that was when the Evil Horde first invaded Eternia, but in his last act the noble King Greyskull sacrificed his own life to banish their leader, the evil warlock Hordak, to the dark prison realm of Despondos, may he rot there!"

"Did Castle Greyskull really exists, Grandfather?"

"It did indeed, but let us not diverge too far from our story eh? My old lungs will not stand it."

The boy nodded, although he suspected his great grandfathers old lungs could stand much... even now.

"So they say," the old man continued, "That as the Vulnarian Shaman Priest Orko looked into the eyes of the babe the Great Teela-Na herself materialized on the stone platform next to the Holy Sword of Power. The twelve priest recognized her and immediately fell to their knees in worship, but the Great Teela was angry and lashed out at them, "You do not follow my laws!" She thundered to the trembling priests.

She floated in the air above them, a seven foot tall warrior woman with a terrifying helm and battle armament in the shape of a large king cobra covering her torso and upper body. In her right hand she held a long staff that ended with the living head of a cobra dripping venom, and on her left arm she wore a shield. The great falcon Zoar was before her, and her long muscular legs were bare except for leather boots with many cunning blades. She was deadly and terrible to look upon.

Only Orko dared to speak to her. "Great Goddess of the Falcon and Cobra, Matriarch to all of Eternia, how have your Vulnarians failed you?"

"Did I tell you to kill this babe?" The Goddess raged.

"Your Laws," Orko trembled, "Did we not follow them as You command?"

"My Laws apply to men or boys with the strength to understand them," the Goddess replied, "Or at least the strength to grip the Sword! I will not have the innocent slaughtered in my name!"

"What do we do?" asked Orko, bowing before her.

"Take the babe into your tribe," She commanded. "I have pitched my voice for your ears alone to hear this Orko, chief of my priests. This babe is Lord Adam, he is the son of the new King Randor, whom the Elders in their last act appointed to the throne in Eternos. It falls to Randor to unite all of Eternia, and to bring the lawless lands, the dark Hemisphere, under his rule, but he cannot do it without this childs help, and if he grows in a royal court the child will be unable to fulfill his destiny. Raise the boy as a Vulnarian warrior. Train him in my ways, mold and shape him in my ways but spare nothing, you must toughen him; he must be the most renowned warrior the Vulnar Valley has ever produced, or perish in the training. Do not name him or tell him from whence he comes, until he is 13 years of age. Upon his thirteenth year of coming to us, test him again: if he fails, then shall he die."

Orko nodded, "It shall be as you command Goddess."

"You think he is an outsider," the Goddess continued, "But I tell you that the blood of Greyskull, the original Vulnarian flows in his veins. From his mothers line the blood of He-Ro, long have the wise women fortold his coming. 'The yellow haired Vulnarian will walk among you' they said, and he is here. See that he knows nothing of the old tales, and nothing of his ancestry. He must win his glory on his own or perish. If he proves worthy, when the day comes the Sword of He shall be his."

Orko trembled. "No one has held that sword in ten thousand years, Goddess."

"Not since Greyskull," the blazing Warrior Goddess agreed, "and there are many who believe the sword to be a mere myth or legend. Yet, here lies the sword in its stone, and here be the small hands that may one day wield it, for the good not only of the Vulnarians, but of all Eternia! I tell you Honored Shaman that there are forces of evil the like of that Eternia has not seen since the days of Greyskull gathering where they gather best, in the darkness."

"Has Hordak escaped the prison realm to walk among us again, Goddess?"

"Not Hordak," The great Teela -Na shook her head, "But one more devious, and even more deadly. The Master of Destruction and Darkness himself, the age old spirit born from the most awful darknesses of the mind of mortal men, beware the Priests of Infinitia!"

The Shaman Priest then became truly, and for the first time ever, frightened. Long ago, a society of four dark scientists strong in both technology and magic had been formed, the Scientists Priest of Infinitia. Together, they opened a doorway to the awful hell world of Horde Prime, and attempted to bring an evil god they served from that world to Eternia. Only by the efforts of the fabled wizard He-Ro (whose true name has been lost to time) were they stopped, but they did manage to get the despised and powerful Hordak into Eternia, which led to the Great Wars with King Greyskull and the Snake King. The Scientists Priest were caught, tried, condemned, and sent to the prison realm of Despondes, where they were to stay for eternity.

"They have escaped Despondes, Goddess?" Orko asked.

"No, Priest," Teela answered, "the four ones are still there in body, but their spirit lives on. The monster of Infinitia has many heads, and those heads are still here in Eternia. The original four had apprentices who escaped the good Wizards grasps, and managed to pass their secrets through the ages. There are four who walk the earth today who have not only the scope of learning of the original four, but have the benefits of thousands of years of experience in the shadows as well. Soon, however they will leave those shadows. All must be ready."

"Who are they, Goddess?"

"I cannot see clearly... a powerful magic guards them and keeps them from my Sight. I get impressions... images. I see a man with three eyes instead of two, I see a undead thing more machine than man, and a creature that is better suited for the sea than the land. More than that is... foggy."

"Train the boy!" the Goddess said with sudden vehemence, "Randors son... train him well. He may well be one day all that stands between us and the Priests of Infinitias! I tell you Orko that even you... immortal and most powerful of my chosen shamans.. even you would cower before the power that the damned of Infinitias prepare to unleash upon the world! Even my Vulnarian warriors, the most feared in Eternia cannot stop it!" The Goddess lowered her voice, "Only the strength of Greyskull itself may stop it, and if this youth does not have the power to wield Greyskulls sword...perhaps we are all doomed. Speak of this to none, and do as I have commanded."

Orko bowed. "As always Goddess" he whispered.


End file.
